Across the River
by Niarisu
Summary: “I’m sorry sir, I wasn’t able to protect your back…” [oneshot]


**A/N:** So, I was shirking work...as usual, and someone -cough- asked for a number of fics...

**Dedication: **Have fun Natasha

**Disclaimer:** This one definitely ain't mine.

* * *

"Sir?" Hawkeye gently shook the man who had fallen asleep at his desk. "General, please wake up now."

Mustang opened one sleepily, his brain protesting the entire way at being brought back into wakefulness. Major Hawkeye stood in front of him, arms occupied with a tall stack of paperwork. Mustang groaned. More paperwork. Great. As if he didn't already have enough to do. Sighing, he ran a hand across his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. "How long have I been sleeping, Major?" he asked, stifling a yawn.

"About two hours. Everyone's gone home now." Hawkeye placed the large pile of paperwork, much to the Brigadier General's surprise, not on his desk, but in one of the many drawers that were meant for filing. Noticing his questioning look, Hawkeye gave a small smile in response. "The men thought it'd be best for all…given the date," she said, the last part trailed off softly, a tinge of regret and sadness in her voice.

Mustang knew what she meant. Two years ago, this day, Brigadier General Hughes had been killed. The man who had said that he would push him up to the top from underneath him had died. His best friend and the one who understood him best had been murdered. The one who had instilled in him his one goal, some twelve years ago.

"Sir?" Hawkeye's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

Mustang stood up and stretched, before moving to get out of his chair. Cautiously. No need to attract any bullets towards his head. Strangely, there were no shots fired. Instead, he found Hawkeye holding his coat. Gratefully, with a nod of his head, he took it. "Good night Major," he said, slipping his coat on, before heading towards the door.

Hawkeye nodded. "Good night, sir. I'll clean up here."

- - -

Roy sighed, as he walked the short distance to the cemetery, hands in his pockets. A lot had happened in those two years. Ed was now seventeen, a few months to eighteen. A legal adult. Of course, Edward had been an adult ever since he was twelve, even if no one else saw it that way. Although, just because he was older now, didn't mean he was much taller. Al had his own body now. Roy could never get it out of Ed just how he had done it, except that he knew that Ed had yet another automail leg. Ed would never tell him, and Al didn't know. Or, maybe Alphonse was just too loyal to his brother…and taller. If there was one thing that set Ed off, it was that Al was still taller than him, despite having been brought down from the size of a seven foot tall armour. Life was like that though. Elysia was now five, and had started school. If anything, she was cuter than ever, and Hughes would have had even more to boast about if he had been alive.

Roy looked up, as he found himself in front of the cemetery gates. As he pushed them open, they softly groaned in protest, creaking, but they let him in. Mustang took the familiar route to Hughes' gravestone, fishing out a small stack of photos all the while. Standing in front of the grave, he knelt down and placed the pictures in front of the marker. They were all of Elysia.

"Maes, I'm back. I hope that you're fine, wherever you are. It's been two years now. I checked up on Elysia for you a few times, although I'm certain you've probably been watching her yourself. She's doing real well you know. You'd be proud of her. You'd be proud of the Elric brothers too. Al's got his body back…and Ed is still short as ever." Roy paused for a moment, and glanced up. The sun was just setting, and the soft glow that emanated from it cast his features into sharp relief, burning red sparks dancing in his eyes, turning his pallid face into a golden hue.

"Looks like you can almost start supporting me from underneath again, Hughes. Or, at least, pull me up with you as you climb. I need your help now, Hughes. I feel like I'm stepping off the path. Am I? Without you, I'm having trouble keeping my sights set for the top. Climbing up the ladder is tough without someone under me to push me up. I feel like I'm slipping. I don't feel any confidence in myself that I'll eventually be able to change the country. I worry that you'll be showing off your dear Elysia to me again soon." Mustang sighed, before continuing his one-sided conversation. "I wish…that you were here to talk some sense into me. You always could, you know, with that strange sense of humour of yours. You'd tell me to stop thinking in such ways, that the entire country depended on me, and it might just collapse. Damn it, why'd it have to be you? You could have been still alive, laughing at me being a fool, teasing Fullmetal, showing off your daughter, being the life of the party. But…you didn't die in vain, I think. I'll try and fulfill _our_ goal. I'll try not to join you until then. I'll be going then. Enjoy those pictures," Roy moved his hand up to lightly brush across his face, before heading home.

- - -

In the weeks following, those who were close to Mustang noticed that he was much quieter than usual. Even Ed noticed. He would if he was no longer being called short. Everyone just put it down as the effects of the second anniversary of Hughes's death. It had been such a short while ago, that it was understandable. Not to say that people weren't concerned. Ed had even asked Mustang if anything was wrong. Mustang, of course, had replied 'Nothing.'

Soon, Mustang perked up again, smirking and relentlessly teasing the elder Elric, dodging paperwork, and stealing Havoc's girlfriends. It was almost as if a collective sigh of relief was let out, as the office soon livened up. Fullmetal's infamous rants could once again be heard resonating down the hallway and out the windows, and the sound of bullets whistling through the air dangerously close to the Brigadier General's head made itself known. In short, chaos was restored.

Which was why no one expected what happened.

- - -

Hawkeye sighed. The Brigadier General was late for work yet again. Of course, he was late almost every day, so she busied herself with sorting out paperwork that Mustang would need to take care off, and paperwork that others could do. Of course, when it was lunch and the General still hadn't arrived, Hawkeye became worried. Sighing, she put down her pen and dismissed the others before heading over to Mustang's home. Finding the door unlocked, a small knot of worry began to grow in her stomach. Slowly, she pushed the door open and let herself in. "Sir?" she called out, her voice resonating off empty walls. She picked her way through the rooms, stepping over dirty laundry, empty bottles, and various other pieces of garbage.

She opened a door, and was immediately assaulted by a rotten stench. The refrigerator door was half open, and putrid masses of meat, soured milk, and rotten vegetables could be seen. Mustang though, wasn't there.

Closing the door gingerly, she moved down the hallway, and looked inside the one at the very end. Hawkeye gasped in surprise and mild horror, because Mustang was lying unmoving on the floor, wearing a very rumpled looking uniform, a small pool of blood coagulated around him. Dropping to her knees, she quickly felt for his pulse and sighed in relief when she found it. The cause of the large amount of blood was soon apparent, because when she turned him over, there was a large gash on his forehead, which was still slowly dripping. He had probably tripped and knocked into the nightstand. What was more worrying, however, was that his breathing was shallow and irregular, each breath wracking his body. Hawkeye had known that there was some sort of epidemic sweeping through Amestris, hell, she had to file most of those reports, but she hadn't thought that Mustang would have fallen to it. After all, most of those that had died were either children, elderly, or those who were already sick in some way or other.

It clicked. Roy very obviously hadn't been taking care of himself, not if the food in the refrigerator, or the empty bottles were any indication. Quickly, she made her way to the phone, and dialled back to the office. Someone would be there shortly.

Sighing softly, Hawkeye set to cleaning his injury, before bandaging it in hopes of stopping the bleeding. Roy's face was exceptionally pale, probably from loss of blood. In his weakened, state, it must have made it easier for the disease to set in.

Someone knocked on the door, and she hurried to open it. He helped her carry Mustang down to a waiting car, which would then take him to a hospital. All that one could do now, was to wait.

- - -

Mustang stirred subconsciously. Somehow, he had more or less of an idea of what was going on, and even though every breath felt like daggers were entering his lungs, some part of him was happy. There was some part of him that wanted to see Hughes again, although his chances were slim, considering that no doubt he would receive the best of care. Mentally, he snorted. If he had just been some Private, he would just be left to die, peacefully. Most likely. Well, you couldn't have everything in life.

He felt something cold pierce his skin, and he jerked. It was probably a needle. All his life, he had hated needles, although he did a good job of not showing it. Someone tried again to slip it into his skin, and he twitched yet again, and felt the needle's sharp point tearing his skin. He waited a while, but no third attempt came. It looked like they had given up trying for at least a moment.

Suddenly, he felt like his lungs were on fire, no, he was on fire. How ironic, that all the time that he had burned others, he had never quite felt what it was to be burned. Yes…very ironic…

A few wracking coughs later, and any and all sensors monitoring Roy Mustang flat lined, and no signs of life could be found.

- - -

The day of the funeral was clear. Not a cloud in site, the sun was shining and the birds were singing, starkly contrasting with the large group in black jackets standing around an open grave. Roy Mustang either had no family, or they couldn't care enough to come. Almost all in attendance were from the military. Riza Hawkeye stood there stoically, like a good soldier should, while behind her, Edward Elric was for once in the blue military uniform, wearing the black sash of mourning. He bit his lip as he watched the coffin being lowered before him. Alphonse Elric tried to silently stifle his tears, as he remembered all that the Colonel had done for them. Armstrong was crying. It didn't seem right that someone who had survived the Ishbalan war would die like this. Havoc, for once, wasn't smoking his cigarette. Fuery had no idea how to act, and just stared at his feet. Breda and Falman stood further back, neither of them wishing to become to involved. The Fuhrer stood at the front, both hands clasped on top of the handle of his sword. If anyone could have seen, under the cap that was pulled down low, the eyes were dancing.

Of course, all the women that he had once dated were there too. If any tears were shed for Roy Mustang, almost all came from them.

Eventually, the service was over and most turned to leave. Ed and Al lingered behind, as Ed dropped a single white rose onto the newly disturbed dirt. Al left a mixed red and orange carnation. Soon, only Hawkeye was left, as she let the tears flow freely down her face.

Quietly, she removed one of her guns from insider her jacket, and placed it over the grave before covering it with dirt. "I'm sorry sir, I wasn't able to protect your back…"

Then, she too left.

Such a pity that yet another human sacrifice would have to die after this.

* * *

Confused? Don't worry, I am too. I don't feel like this one was my best at all...my explanation: when I was writing, Natasha decided to...piss me off slightly. She had asked for Mustang to die in a nice gory death, so I changed it so he could just die nice and quietly. Except then I relented, and added in some blood. And the Homunculi. Basically, one of the 'doctors' was Envy, and the needles would have contained poison..mwhahahahaha. If a sacrifice is no use, just kill it, no? Meh. Cookie box is over there. -points-

Oh, and there'll probably be more Roy!Death fics in the future...mwhahaha...


End file.
